Something Stupid
by xylot3
Summary: N/E. Oneshot. Post COTBP, pre DMC. Elizabeth is in heaven, James is in hell, and guilt evens it out.


Inspiration struck for a post-COTBP, pre-DMC Norribeth oneshot, something that's more than likely been done millions of times before

_Ah. How songs inspire people to write so... some Willabether I'm turning out to be, huh. Enjoy. And POTC ain't mine. Oh, and cookies to someone who can guess which song inspired this so-titled ficlet._

333

Elizabeth Swann strolls through the small forest, the pink eastern sunlight beaming onto her smiling face. She walks at a quick but lingering pace, letting the slight breeze brush past her face, the early morning air still crisp in her nose. The forest was really a small strip of land just behind the Swann mansion; it stretched on and ended with a secluded beach further northeast. It was public parkland designed for picnics and taking walks with others.

Elizabeth, of course, is alone, but enjoyed it all the same. Having only awoken minutes before, she wore but a nightdress and her robe. If she was to be spotted by anyone, she would be in trouble for inapt clothing. It was still very early, however, and so this risk to her was low. Nothing worries her, really; she is getting married soon, and naught but the wedding lingers in her head.

Her mind wanders, and so does she. Elizabeth pays no attention to where she is going, nor keeps track of the time. She brushes her hand onto every tree, examines every fallen leaf, traces footprints in the mud, chuckling and warming her face on the rising sun. She was going to bring William with her there one day, she was certain. Silencing all her thoughts and laughter, she closes her eyes and lets the sunlight wash over her countenance. In the near distance, she can hear waves crashing onto the sand. It is heaven.

333

James Norrington wanders along the beach, the pink eastern sunlight falling across his loose hair. He walks at his slowest possible pace, allowing the sea breeze to push his locks out of his blurred eyes. Earlier, he had woken up to the sun peeking in a red haze over the horizon, and in the sharp realization that he was alone, wept in desperation. _Why do I love her so? _Running out the door, past houses and into a small forest. In a blinding attempt to feel something else, be it exhausted, exhilarated or (God forbid) physically wounded, he had run through the forest and ended up at the beach, throwing himself onto the sand and lying facedown, drowning in his own pity.

James felt so alone in the world. Elizabeth loves another, and he had let her go, let her be happy. He hates to, but he let her go for her happiness. Just hours ago, not even a whole day, had Sparrow escaped. Just hours ago, and Turner confessed his love. Just hours ago, Elizabeth confessed hers. Just hours ago, his world had sunk. Never mind Sparrow. Nothing worries him anymore; he has lost what had been his sole purpose in life and naught but the empowering thought of his loss lingers in his head.

His mind is restless, and so is he. Sitting down on the sand, curling into a ball and burying his face into his knees, James pays no attention to the waves that are soaking his nightclothes. God save him if he becomes ill from the cold. _God save me now_. He is going to bring the memory with him everywhere, he is certain. Silencing all his inner screams, he closes his eyes and let the sun laugh at his frightened form, hearing the waves crash in his ear, crashing with his tormented mind. It is hell.

333

Elizabeth trails her nightgown behind her, now walking barefoot toward the beach. The mud squelches beneath her feet, tickling her soles and softening the sharp leaf stems that seem to reach up and pinch her. Two or three inches of her dress were caked in dirt, but she pays no heed to her disheveled appearance; all she thinks about is William, her William, their love, how they would be married within the year. It fills her mind, helping the sun rise with her heart. Absolutely nothing could go wrong now.

After a few moments, she reaches the top of the hill on the edge of the forest and stares at the beach. Spotting a few large rocks, her mind decides to go and find some kind of sea life amongst the bulky stones, something to add thrill to the morning. Upon reaching the cluster of rocks, however, a lone boulder – and a large one, at that – sits, half-sunk in the sand, waves crashing over its edges. Opting to seek other forms of life around the lone rock, she drags herself down the beach toward the waves. From further up the beach, it looks like a silhouette. Up close, Elizabeth realized the rock is indeed a young man.

The chap has hair to his shoulders, the sea air tossing them around his stooped head. It's a familiar shade of brown, yet Elizabeth barely remembers anyone with such a color on their head. She reaches forward to tap him on the shoulder, but the man raises his head quickly.

"Did you follow me here?" he asks Elizabeth, refusing to look at her.

Elizabeth doesn't remember James with his hair loose, ever, and only by his voice does she recognize that it is him. Although broken and hoarse, it is certainly him. "No."

James wants to act coldly, unfeelingly, just as he had throughout his time in the Navy. But he couldn't do it – not to Elizabeth. He was certain she knows (if she knows anything about him at all) that he would be obscuring his true feelings. He is hurt. She knows it. He continues to gaze at the sea, still not wanting to glance at Elizabeth. She stands behind him, not knowing what to say, if anything; James sits, staring at the ocean, willing his tears back behind his eyes.

He isn't angry at her. That was for certain – perhaps the only thing he knew that was certain at that moment. It wasn't her fault she was in love with Turner, wasn't her fault that her being captured by pirates and heroically saved by William, falling for him the whole time. Not her fault. It was his. He'd let her be captured, let his mind work automatically and not rushing to save her, so valiantly as Turner had done.

"As long as you're happy, Elizabeth," he says thickly in an undertone, "you don't have to see me ever again."

Elizabeth takes a step back at his blatant declaration. "I... don't say that, Commodore. I don't want to... to lose you, I... I still enjoy your acquaintance. We-"

James snaps his head around. "There was never a 'we'," he growls, and one single tear falls out of his eye. Turning back quickly, he glares at the orange sun. "And I cannot be with you alone like this. Leave, and you shall never see my face again."

"But I want to see your face," Elizabeth pleads, "I don't want you to hate me. I do not hate you. You are still my friend."

"The last time I checked, _Miss Swann_, friends call other 'friends' by their given names," James spits, loathing himself again the moment the sentence leaves his throat.

Elizabeth sits down next to him, legs crossed, her previous happiness long gone. "I'm sorry, James." The way she says his name fills him with grief and an unstoppable desire, one that never ceased to attack his heart, every waking hour of his day. She moves to put her hand on his shoulder, but he takes her wrist and puts it back in her lap. Her skin is cold with the breeze, and James had to stop himself from clasping her hand in his own.

"Do not be sorry."

"I already am."

"Then stop."

"No."

He turns his head to face her, ignoring the tears that are streaming down his face. "Stop feeling sorry. It is useless to pity the ones you cannot help."

"But I can help you, James."

He wipes his face on his sleeve, mind and heart aching for a sign. _Any sign, Lord._ James raises his hand and cups her chin, pulling her close. "I do not need help," he murmurs into her ear, his thumb tracing her cheekbone gently. He takes in every feeling in his body, grasping every second. Elizabeth shuts her eyes as he closes his mouth onto hers, allowing his tongue to touch her own. She tilts her head slightly and puts her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her.

Their bodies press against each other, their hearts speed up. Elizabeth pushes James onto his back. He has to gather all his willpower not to let his feelings get the better of him. Before anything more, he places his hand on her neck and pushes away, her breath hot on his lips, mind aching from the too-short kiss they had shared. He sits up, forcing Elizabeth to sit in front of him, noses still touching.

His mind aches when he realizes that she is crying.

"Do not carry any burdens from today," James says breathily. "I love you."

Abruptly he stands up. He spins on his heel and runs away from her, runs away from life, vowing to himself in a silent, anguished prayer of loathing and contempt for the world. He turned his back on Elizabeth, and in the fleeting moment their lips met, turned his back on life.


End file.
